Tuesday, August 31, 2010

First thing's first. If you have a GPS Adventure from Hell story, I really want to hear it because I had never and I mean never heard of such a thing before I lived it.

So where were we? Oh yes. Happily on Fish Street after a day of good times and great food. Can you believe that I didn't take one picture of food? Truly rotten of me, too, because the food was not only delicious, it was beautiful and beautifully served and the mere memory of it was sustaining during our long ordeal.

Ahh, yes, we said our goodbyes and Mother asked the best way out of Fish Street and received the knowledgeable answer from Uncle Bee and Mother programmed the GPS and off we went with that smooth talker, the one with a slightly British accent and a slightly superior tone, directing us.

Turn Left, says she.

Fine. Just as we thought.

Turn Right on Liberty Road, says she.

Right? Turn right? I thought we were staying on this road until the main highway. Mother dutifully turned right and for a while it seemed that we were on a quiet residential street until the road turned to dirt. We didn't think that much about it and especially nothing of it when it came back out on tar again, but then...

Hmmm, this looks a bit ominous. Now may be a good time to explain our roles. Mother was driving; John was the advisor and guide; and I was the backseat driver and the reminder of all the yummy food we'd eaten that day. (I even had raspberry squares to munch if things got too tense. They did. I had to share them with my fellow travelers as things were much too tense for them, too.) Once again the road has turned to dirt, but that is not all that unusual in this corner. It looked like a pretty decent dirt road as dirt roads go.

One point seven miles, says she of British accent and slightly superior tone.

We considered our options and forged ahead. No place to turn around anyway.

Mud puddle ahead...

Just follow me...

Satellite Connection has been lost.

Come ahead just a little...

The sun was brutal... John! I can hardly see you!

Brutal!

The bugs, mosquitoes, mud, and glare!

Mother, you've got to slow down! We'll have to turn back to fetch John at this speed!

And so it went. One point seven miles down the road and twenty point seven miles back. About midpoint in this hour adventure we put in an urgent call to Fish Street. "Ever heard of Liberty Road?" Mother asks.

"Oh gak! You'll never be able to get through to the main highway. That road stops."

"Really?" says mother all coolness and calm. "Well, we're going to continue because there's no room to turn around. The tree branches are scraping the car all the way."

"I'm just telling you that there's no way through."

And this is when I begin thinking about metaphors and praying. We did ultimately find a field out there in all that great forest with just enough room to turn around and we headed back into the glare of that setting sun and thanked God it was still setting and that it hadn't sunk below the mountains yet.

So our long adventure was over after nearly an hour in the woods. Unbelievable. You'll be happy to know that our new plan is never to continue on a dirt road no matter what the GPS says.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Shoot! Didn't I go and miss Mosaic Monday altogether. That's too bad, but I've made some mosaics and I'm going to use them all the same.

Mother, John and I were invited to Fish Street where my Aunt Ess and Uncle Bee live. (Edited to add: Mother has just told me that we invited ourselves. Mother!) They actually live in Connecticut, but have the good sense to hightail it back to Maine for the summer where they have an adorable home on Uncle Bee's family homestead right there in the foothills of the White Mountains.

I waltzed in with my camera hanging about my neck and immediately suggested that my aunt allow me to take pictures of her home for my blog. I just love her house! What a sweetheart she was for allowing me to twist her arm.

The actual "theme" of my aunt and uncle's home is fish and fishing. There are fishing items all around, which is appropriate considering the name of their street, but my aunt doesn't allow the fishing theme to overwhelm and does have many "softening" touches as you can see. One of my favorite things was the hutch that she painted (the colors are not true here...it's more of a soft yellow) in the style of Mackenzie Childs. She says she's tired of adding the layers and isn't finished and may never be. Gosh we must be cut from the same bolt. That's my problem. I can never get to finished because I give up early. Even if she is finished, it looks great as is.

Seems that I introduced my aunt to Blogdom a year ago. She is there in the middle of this mosaic wearing one of her favorite vintage aprons. She has treasures tucked in every corner and there is so much to see. I took so many pictures! Sadly, many didn't turn out. Her favorite blog is Magnolia Pearl. Now that's a far cry from A Haven for sure! How did that happen? Anyway, I warn you that MP is the slowest loading blog I've ever visited, but what fussy fun!

The following mosaic shows another reason for our visit — meeting my aunts and a cousin who just so happened to become a grandmother for the first time while we were there. What fun! (Welcome to the world, Sweet Bennett.) And my aunt in blue became a great-grandmother once again. She was pretty tickled. If only I had taken a picture of my cousin's face. It was so alight with joy that my Uncle Bee turned away with a sniffle saying, "I can't take all this emotional stuff." (He's such a sweetie is my Uncle Bee.) :D

Center Photo: My Three Aunts and My Mother

L–R top row:

Window box at fairgrounds featuring lots of lantana

Window box at my aunt and uncle's...he makes these

Across the street corn fields

Window box at fairgrounds featuring purples and grays

second row:

Ancient trees in the yard

A beautiful home on Fish Street

third row:

Vintage green truck car at another beautiful home on Fish Street

Same ancient trees

fourth row:

previously identified except for birdhouse in backyard

We had such fun! It was so good to see everyone! It was so good to get away!

And I didn't come home empty-handed. Besides produce from the garden, my aunt also gave me these treasures:

That's an envelope purchased from some blog...very sweet idea...it's made with the page from a book and superimposed with silhouette posies and grasses and the little bird is cut from black paper and is dimensional. See the darling perfume bottle? My aunt is now collecting perfume bottles. She gave this one to me. And a White House cookbook copyrighted in 1899 filled with old recipes and ideas for housekeeping. I'll be sure to share a few one day. And a piece of linen already ready for the printer. Now that sounds cool!

Thank you so much to all my family for sharing such a sweet day. Hope that we can do it again and a little sooner!

And thanks to you, Dear Reader, for tagging along; loved having you. Come back tomorrow and I'll share the rest of our story—the GPS adventure from hell and I have pictures to prove it!

Edited to Add 9/02/10: Thought I'd end on a sweeter note with my cousin's new grandson mentioned in this post. Just received his photo late last night and thought how very precious he is.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Those of you who've been reading this week know that I have been spending some time at the Country Living Living Room Gallery where I have been looking at lots of spaces trying to come

closer to my own current desires. Much of what I have was dictated by former homes, rooms, and colors.

If you read yesterday's post, you can see the wood planked walls that I have throughout my dining room, living room, and part of my kitchen. All the ceilings are also in this planking throughout and just as I suspected that it would do, it is darkening. I don't like darkening. I'm afraid that soon it will look like this.

When it could look more like this...

not that I'm a lover of white particularly, but it sure brightened up the space.

So these are some rooms I enjoyed, including the first at the top. Again, the first was too much white, but there are so many things I like about it. The furniture, the old tool box as a coffee table (mine's black), the eclectic collection of wall art, etc.

And I also like this room. Hmmmm, strange, because it is dark again. Perhaps it is the bright yellow door or maybe it is the wall of books or maybe it's the furniture or is it the threadbare carpet? Whatever it is, it isn't quite it.

Then there's this number...bright, cheerful, and with my favorite color yellow very prominent. Perhaps this lets me know that I like lots of color. I really do. There's no sense in denying that any longer.

Then I found it! A room where I love nearly every little thing about it. The warmth, the coziness, the color of the walls (well perhaps a titch lighter), the furniture, the reds, the golden hues, the hard wood floors.

Those curtains have to go, but other than that... So what have I learned? Mostly I've learned that rooms that have charmed me from ages and ages ago are still with me. Perhaps I just haven't grown up.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

It's been one of those days where I have been puttering around the house looking at things with a critical eye and thinking what I might be able to do today without painting and without changing things too drastically.

After feeling like a slug for over two weeks, I finally feel like doing something, but that something doesn't include messing things all up. More that it means putting things back together again. As we all know, things do not improve with time without an outside hand (contrary to what all those evolutionists think).

So the one little thing I changed was the shelf over the tv where I took down everything that had been there and gathered my oil lamps and slapped them up instead.

I was taking a cue from Penny @The Comforts of Home who recently disguised her tv by adding pictures to the wall all around it. Did you miss it as I first did? You can take a peek right *here.*

Goodness knows that I've been wailing about my tv and it's nowhere near the size of hers. What do you think? Do my lamps disguise it any? LOL!

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

The strangest thing happened to me as I was browsing through Country Living's Living Room Gallery last night. Up popped this picture, which tossed me back to the late 50s and early 60s when my great-grandmother's cousin was still living in the shabby home of her childhood directly across the street from my great-grandmother's home. (I've written about my great-grandmother's home ages ago *here.* ) This is enough of a likeness to remind me of Lil's Federally styled home and those quaint rooms all filled with treasures from the Victorian era. Even the walls and ceilings looked much this way as the house fell into disrepair.

Lil was bedridden at the time and probably well into her 90s. My great-grandmother, in her 80s herself, was Lil's caregiver taking her three square meals a day and probably doing light cleaning and perhaps personal care as well.

We visited Lil whenever we were in town. She had treats on a table beside her bed for such occasions...shortbread cookies with marshmallow toppings covered in coconut. It was like having tea using someone's bed as the dining table.

Lil had married, but never had any children. Now I find myself wondering if having all my great-grandmother's grands and great-grands about ever tried her patience. I don't think so. She had many stories to tell and I remember her telling one about her father who traded rifles with the Indians. In the winter when it was cold, he allowed them to sleep in the house. Lil found it delightful to tiptoe around sleeping Indians to get through the parlor to the dining room for breakfast. Now I find myself wondering what Lil's father was getting in return for the rifles.

The front door to Lil's house was a Palladian style window with either one or two side windows along the door. The front hall was small with a curving staircase to the left. On either side of the front hall were parlors. The one on the right was used for Lil's bedroom in the years that I knew her. Directly behind the parlors were the dining room on the left connecting with the parlor on that side and the old-fashioned kitchen on the right. Behind the kitchen was the shed, which connected to the barn beyond and behind and all around the back of the house were apple orchards.

Those apple orchards were wonderful places to play Hide n' Seek with all of us cousins running wild through the evening shrieking and having great fun. I wonder what Lil thought of all that. I hope that we weren't too loud.

The house was literally falling down around Lil. It was sad even for a young child to see for I certainly did understand that it wasn't good. Eventually Lil passed away and the house sat there looking forlorn for years. What my parents didn't know was that I was a regular visitor there. I used to slip in through the back shed door and wander about through those rooms even going upstairs where I had been strictly forbidden to go. I remember that there was a bedroom with a hole in the floor where I could look right down to the room below. In that bedroom were old books strewn about. I vaguely remember some hymnbooks that my mother gathered up once. There was also an old trunk filled with ancient clothes.

Oh yes, I've had an interesting wander down Memory Lane...

Edited to Add 8/26/2010: Answers to some questions have been given in comments...look for Vee. :D

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

In light of all that is going on in the United States these days, the controversy that swirls around the building of a mosque near Ground Zero in NYC, the enormous financial challenges that many of us are facing because of various decisions made in the political arena concerning mortgages, credit cards, and loss of income, I thought that I would discuss tolerance today. In addition, there are a number of personal family matters in my private life that require a decision about being tolerant (or not), and on and on it goes. Anyway, I'm going to share a family story concerning tolerance without actually connecting the dots. I'll leave that for you to do in your own way and following the dictates of your own heart.

Now, if I've told this story before, please forgive me. I'm getting old and forgetful.

When my son was eight years old, he and my daughter were attending a private Christian school where I also taught. Unbeknownst to me, he was struggling every recess with an overzealous classmate. This classmate was a big bear of a boy who would literally pick my son up, twirl him around, and, as if that weren't enough humiliation, he'd plant a big kiss on my son's lips. Of course, then all the other children would laugh. No playground teacher ever addressed it.

At long last, I did find out what was going on and had a talk with the young man's parents, both of whom were also teachers at the school. Anyway, they both assured me that their son didn't mean anything by it. He was just a big, lovable lug. I told them that since it was bothering my son that their lovable lug needed to cut it out.

Still no action. None. Every day the same story. I tried to be longsuffering and I tried also to encourage longsuffering in my son. Wrong choice. Totally.

One evening, my son was sitting with his head down at the supper table and his dad asked him what the trouble was. The story spilled out and his father listened carefully.

"This is what I want you to do tomorrow" my husband said. "When you see him coming, tell him that you have your father's permission to punch his lights out."

I'm pretty certain that my head spun, but I didn't say too much as I recognized the wisdom of the plan. It proved to be the end of the story. It happened just once. All my son had to do was invoke the name of his father. He didn't even have to punch out the lovable lug's lights. The mere knowledge that my son wasn't going to tolerate being twirled and kissed any longer and that he had his father's permission not to tolerate it were all that was needed. Oh happy day!

Sometimes I think more of us have to get to this place. I think we might be surprised by what our heavenly Father doesn't want us tolerating in the first place. You might try asking Him. I know that I do and often.

Friday, August 20, 2010

Life's been pretty quiet while I'm cooped up here for two weeks next Monday. This is so insulting to me after not being able to go and do for weeks and months without end and now I could, if only my body would allow. Nevertheless, there have been joys sprinkled throughout. Most of them come from Blogland itself. What would I have done without all of you and, though I was often too tired to comment, I did visit and read a lot.

There is such beauty in every corner of this globe and in Blogdom there is no limit of time or space. We can visit in Istanbul one minute and in another be whisked off to Mexico. Incredible! One can explore any topic, any style, any story.

Incredible, too, when a fellow traveler in Blogland sends a gift. This one is from Karen. Isn't it beautiful? Does it not delightfully express our experience in this place? Hence the title of this post...

Arggghhh, here goes my blood pressure! This post is NOT finished, yet it's gone down the sluice. I tell you that there are days when I have the exact opposite feeling about Blogger that I do about Blogdom. Two separate entities entirely. What happened? I asked for a post date of 8/20/10 and it did not hold. Frustrating. (Edited to Add: Oh interesting! Look at the post date...hmmm, gremlins about. I should add just for the record that today is Thursday, August 19, 2010. My post says that it is August 20, 2010 just as I requested. This post should NOT have posted.)

Okay, I'll scrurry along and see what I can do.

My mother brought me this gift from her recent vacation. (We had no idea that she'd be going at the worst possible time...Nan in the nursing home and my not being able to visit her. Nan really struggled through her days. Thank God for John who stood in the gap for all of us even winding up at a "family meeting" alone on Nan's behalf.) Anyway, this tea pot is from the Czech Republic, it's porcelain with 24 karat gold overlay. I think it's beautiful and so it will be taken better care of than being atop my old books. It's far more ostentatious than I am used to, but I think it will be great fun to serve tea from this pot.

As you can see from my find a few weeks ago, these Golden Wheat cups from the 1940s, I am a simpler kind of gal. These were purchased with autumn in mind and the thought of having something autumnal to hang from the old window. I knew as I was purchasing them that a few bloggers have them, but it didn't take long to find one right away—Dot at Pickett's Place. Whenever I'm tempted to think about how rough it's been, I think of Dot right away. She packed up her entire home and went to live near her parents so that she could be close to care for them. Now she's packing up again and going back home. My mind spins to think of all that work! Not only that, but while she was at her new home, she cleaned up the yard, planted, pruned...oh my the work! She says that she tried to fall in love with the new house, but couldn't. Okay, she's leaving it a much better place for the next inhabitants that's for sure.

So here's to leaving Blogland a little brighter... Perhaps I need to remove my meltdown in the center... Nope. I'll let it stand. It's a teachable moment.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

My grands have been having some fun rides this summer. I'm so glad. They are just the right age to enjoy these delights and will be for a few years more. That my son and daughter-in-law fit these fun events into the budget makes everybody happy.

Both boys really enjoyed a trip up White Mountain on the *Cog Railroad* in July. My son said that he white-knuckled it all the way, much to his wife's amusement, and the boys, perfectly oblivious to their dad's discomfort, grinned all the way to the top.

These photos are of the most recent adventure...a little time spent with Thomas.

Ahhhh, this is the life!

And off they go on another adventure. Wish that Jake would at least hold onto the wheel.

While the boys are enjoying their rides, I'm on one of a completely different sort. Every time I think that this thing...oh, let's just call it what it is...Herpes Simplex Virus...is on its way out, I'm tricked. So thanks for asking about me. I'm still in the throes of it taking my medicines and being ultra careful to be socially responsible. John gets no kisses...linens are changed often...dishes are washed in bleach...they're always washed in bleach...I wash my hands a lot...I stay at home and grin groan.

My goal is to get a ride up the Cog Railroad in late September...wouldn't it be beautiful? Edited to Add: Wait a minute! I remember typing "is there a ride you'd like to go on?" but it got lost in editing. I still want to know!

Saturday, August 14, 2010

This morning when I awoke, I realized very shortly that I feel just as bad as I have every other morning this week. Nerves will get you if you don't watch out, and they've got me. I have some sort of viral infection that has resulted in multiple cold sores on my lips, sores in my mouth, and a swollen neck, which is also, yup, sore.

And tonight is my junior high class reunion and I have hoped all week that I might be able to go after all. Originally, I wouldn't be able to go because of Nan, but now I'm not able to go because I look like the creature from the Black Lagoon. Guess this spares me the troubles of trying to make myself into a fourteen-year-old. Thank the Lord for small favors!

These school chums are the ones I began my educational journey with way back in kindergarten and we were together until high school. By the time we reached high school, our town high school had been closed for a number of years and we were bussed to the big city where we ultimately graduated in a class of nearly 500. We lost touch with one another even though we lived in the same small town. I never recommend that communities bus their children off for an education.

I'll be thinking of them all; praying as the Lord brings them to mind; and hoping that they have a fun time tonight wading through the memories.

In some sad news, John found that Sarah had died sometime Thursday night. She was buried yesterday in a coffin that John made special just for her. He wrote upon it: Sarah, a good friend to Nan. August 13, 2010. I'm quite upset by this because I feel that if I had been more observant I'd have known that something was wrong. But, being sick myself, I was pretty self-absorbed. All I know is that she had eaten her last two meals and was still drinking water. I also know that for some strange reason Fioré was lying with her all day. We will not be telling Nan about Sarah's passing for fear that it would upset her too much. If she returns home, of course, we will have to. If not, she will be spared.

So that's why I was looking for lovely things yesterday. Thanks for the helps with the posies. Because of you, I watered them for 20 minutes this morning. They don't look revived, but it's early yet.

Friday, August 13, 2010

I need to think about something lovely today. Something right. Something pure. Something noble and admirable (a poor paraphrase of Philippians 4:8). This has nothing whatsoever to do with Friday the 13th, though if I were a superstitious person I'd think so.

Back along, I told you that I had had a sweet offer of perennials from my sister's garden. At that time, I couldn't fetch them, but while Nan was in the hospital last weekend, I did go dig up three boxes full. I have lots of lilies (already gone by), some bleeding hearts ( I hope one of them is white), and a number of tall phloxes. They haven't looked especially happy in their new environment hence the cropped photos. Anyone know how long it takes for them to perk up?

I may just quit and buy some mums for fall. I'm beginning to see them all over the place. The garden could so use some color!

Nan is safely in Rehab and is as content as one can be. We are so thankful for the Lord's working this all out. Thank you again for all your prayers and thoughts on our behalf. We felt them, believe me.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Let me say right up straight that I like dogs. My son and his wife have two, a pug and a beagle. (And I don't mean my grandsons!) My parents had a poodle and when we were growing up we had collies, pedigreed and everything. My sister and her hubby have a black lab and my neighbors have a chocolate lab named Brin. I like all these dogs.

This morning around seven (actually yesterday morning this having been written last night), I was outside planning to water my flowers when I heard dogs growling viciously. Within seconds, I heard a man yelling in a truly terrified voice, "Get outta here! Go away! Leave her alone!" Then I became aware of a smaller dog whimpering. I'm no Sherlock, but I was able to put it all together. My neighbor beyond the tree line was yelling at the p*it b*ulls who run the neighborhood...no leashes, no collars, no nothing. They must have attacked his poodle, which he often keeps on a run in his yard.

Brilliantly, I decided that the flowers were on their own and scampered inside. I was just telling John that the dogs that had charged him a few weeks ago must be up to something again when he saw them running down the street. "Yup," he acknowledged, "same dogs."

The dogs ran off where I could no longer see them and John left for the morning paper. Not long after he pulled out of the drive, I saw a police officer in his vehicle circling the neighborhood. When John returned, I told him and he said that obviously someone had called the incident in.

As we were drinking our morning coffee, we heard first one then another shot ring out. Some moments later, a third. I have no idea for certain, but I think that the p*it b*ulls are history.

As I was feeling a pang about that, John reminded me that he had been very afraid when they charged him and he reminded me that children play in this neighborhood, my own grandchildren included. What we had here were two p*it b*ulls running loose and wearing no tags. Obviously, their owners were not terribly concerned.

My sister has a new neighbor who owns two p*it b*ulls. They bark all day and night and when anyone goes to his/her car in my sister's drive, they lunge at the ends of their chains barking furiously or sometimes a low-throated growl that is most frightening. We've all worried what might happen if a chain breaks.

So the bottom line is, if owners are not going to take responsibility for their dogs, the dogs have no business running loose. Most communities have leash laws. I'm glad to see that our police department enforces ours. Yes, I am glad. No more pangs for me.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

This is a little project that I have been working on for months. I have tried it many ways and have ripped it apart several times. And gosh, now I see that those buttons just won't cut it. I think that I may be too much of a perfectionist. It'll never be perfect so why do I keep trying? I'll tell you why... this is for a very special gal who could whip one of these up herself (with one hand tied behind her back and blindfolded) in no time flat and it. would. be. perfect. I think of it this way, though. Don't good chefs need someone to bake or cook for them sometimes? And wouldn't a painter enjoy a painting done especially for him/her? And doesn't a good writer appreciate good writing? Sure. Anyway, that's my philosophy and the reason I have soldiered on despite being out of my element. At least I'm learning new things.

Have I ever told you that I am not a fan of messes? They make me nervous. This from a former first-grade teacher who taught her own art classes. That was probably the beginning right there! Anyway, creating is always messy. Always. Maybe I just need some extra room. My space is filling up rapidly and especially so after my sister gifted me with tons of her stamping things. I'm delighted and appalled all at the same time.

Anyway, with one of those hundreds of stamps and some fabric ink, I've been practicing making my own ribbon. Ohhhh, I like it. Yes, I do believe that I can get used to this.

Did I tell you that I lost the beautiful armoire in my sewing room? It didn't really belong to me so it went to join the rest of the set at my son and daughter-in-law's. John helped me move in an extra bureau floating about...the attic's full of them...and so I set up my new station. About the same time, my mother gave me this vintage suitcase that belonged to her grandmother. I filled it with the canning jars that contain buttons and old lace. That's *Pearl* sitting right up there atop the pile beside a vintage postcard. (Pearl used to belong to Nan, but Nan began to think that Pearl was staring at her. This is pretty common for Alzheimer's patients I am told.)

It's all a-jumble and needs some tending. Oh well! Thankfully, no one on the first floor can see it, except now that I've shared with all of you, that seems a moot issue. :D

Concerning Nan...we have been waiting for official word for several days now of where she will be going after her hospital stay. It's all been so up in the air. I've kept myself busy packing for her knowing that she's not coming directly home. She's in such rough shape after that fall. She's been unable to feed herself because her hands are so crippled and so it's meant trying to get there for all of her meals so she'll be able to eat. It's an awful thing to know that if you're not at the hospital, your loved one will go hungry. The staff is much too busy to help with feeding the patients. Crazy state of affairs now let me tell you.

Anyway, I'm taking her rollator along to the nursing home and I wanted it to have a cute tag so it won't get lost. Hope Nan likes it...of course, her name is written in what appears to be an empty center.

Guess that's all I've got for today... I hope to get caught up with you soon!

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

This past Sunday afternoon, the aromatic oil diffuser did it again. We were literally knocked out within ten minutes of dropping in some Peace and Calm. I slept for nearly three hours upright in a chair while John napped on the sofa. Talk about sleep deprived.

Edited to add: For those who've asked, I first mentioned this item *here.*

When we woke, we decided that, since we were not house captives as is usually the case, we would go to the flea market. While there, I received a call from my grandson via his aunt saying that he wanted to come for a visit. Oh no!

But never fear, I set up a quick ice cream date and asked them to meet us at "the farm" where we'd have ice cream and visit the animals to include a llama who spits. Perfect.

I've never taken my grandson for an ice cream before so was quite interested about his order. It was fast and sure: small chocolate soft serve in a dish with rainbow sprinkles. Oh. Interesting. My daughter ordered a medium half and half (chocolate and vanilla) and I ordered a mocha chip cone as did John.

We sat outside at the picnic tables enjoying our treats and watching rabbits scamper about in their hutches. Sam ate his with careful attention and after a little while, his aunt told him that he had a "jimmy" on his chin. Sam's eyes grew very wide and slowly he asked, "Why do you say that I have Jimmy on my chin?"

Honestly, I just love this age. Language is so interesting not to mention confusing. So what do you call these things?

Monday, August 9, 2010

Refrigerator door decorations don't usually make me this happy, but these pretty postcards have a spot front and center and they make me smile whenever I see them. That's all the reason I need to keep them right there.

Do you think that it would be fun to send someone a postcard and get one in return? I've another spare floating about in addition to the two being returned to two gals here. First one who says she wants it, gets it.